


Diary of a Digger

by AshadelMG



Category: Terraria
Genre: F/M, Female Dominant, Femme Domme, Forced Feminization, Humiliation, Micropenis, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Panties, Slime, Slime monster, semi-hiatus, sissification
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:06:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshadelMG/pseuds/AshadelMG
Summary: Chezza didn't expect to be where she is, but she's out on her own and getting somewhere. It's up to her to build a whole new world - perhaps literally.





	1. Chapter 1

My name is Chetzza. Don't bother lookin' it up, because I'm not really sure where my parents got that name from. Don't bother askin' about them, either. Truth be told, I don't really remember them. I grew up alright, I guess. If you haven't guessed, I'm a woman. Strong, durable, not one of those prissy women you find hanging off the arms of body-builders, no.  _Not_  me.  
  
Never wanted to be like that, really. Always wanted to be something better. So when the call went out for people to work in far off lands, I took the first raft out and set sail for paradise. My sort of paradise. The sort where all I have is the sun on my back, a sword in my hand, and miles and miles of flat out nothing. I got all that I wanted when it came to that, and a little something extra special.  
  
His name is Cody, and he's the most  _annoyin_ ' son of a bitch I can ever remember having the displeasure to interact with. You know them boys who refuse to do a days honest work, sit there on a tree stump and bark at you that you're doing everything wrong, or that you should be putting that piece of wood  _there_  instead of  _there_? Yeah, he's one of those types. You should hear him go on and on about building a house. Fuck, it's enough to drive a woman mad!  
  
I won't lie. I'd have killed him already if he wasn't so easy on the eyes, and boy... is he ever. The boy is built like a woman, without tits. The kind of woman I described above; thin and pretty, better found on the arm of some well to do rich guy. Or one of those guys who wonders how he ever got so lucky. He's got these eyes – damn, those eyes! - that are wide with innocence, full lips, and thick lashes. You can't blame me for thinking he got the short end of the stick, because he'd have made a  _damned_  good woman.  
  
It was after his fifteenth time hinting about a house in that not so naïve way that I think I actually snapped. It may have been the sixteenth. I had been walking all day, climbing up walls and helping his sorry – if  _fine_  – ass up when he whined like a spoiled princess, hauling fallen timber when I wasn't carrying him, and I was getting cranky. You would be too, if you had to deal with that. If he was going to tag along with me, it would either be as a corpse or as something useful.  
  
So I smacked him. His blue eyes went completely wide with shock, and the sweetest little yelp left his pouty lips. Damn all the gods there might be, that only made it worse for him. He backed away when I dropped the timber I'd been hauling, but he couldn't back away fast enough. I might be big, built like a brick house, but I can be damned fast when I want to be and – trust me – I wanted to be. He was nearly out of my reach when I grabbed his thick, curly brown hair and pulled him back towards me and hit him again.  
  
I didn't want him to bleed. I just wanted that sound again, and I got it. Oh, merciful gods, I got it. As I forced him to his knees, he started to beg me. I swear here and now that I'm not a violent woman, I'm really not. I know that what I'm describing now is considered despicable by most standards, but now I sort of understand those men you hear about all the time; the ones who have women under their thumb, so bent and broken that you could ask them to walk on glass with bare feet and they would, just to please you. I'm sure there are women out there like that, too... but I'd never heard of them.  
  
I let go of his hair, and he cowered there with his big blue eyes gazing up at me, a tangled plea and question in there. I could see him begging me to explain why I hit him in those eyes, I could see that he already knew damned well why I did, and I could see that deep-seated fear of not knowing if I'd do it again. Even worse, I could see the question there in those pretty eyes, filled with tears of pain and uncertainty, and I could see the question that poor boy had aimed at himself.  
  
Gods help me, I took that question and ran with it. If he hadn't been questioning himself, I could have held back. I know I could have. But that moment of weakness there in him just made a flame burn brighter inside myself, and I didn't have the strength to stomp it out. I wasn't abused as a kid, and I've never had bad luck with lovers. The only spanking I've ever been on the receiving end of, I'm the one who told them to do it while they were drilling my ass and making me call them Daddy.  
  
He shuddered when I knelt down to touch his face where I hit him. I guess I expected him to try to squirm away, because I was surprised when he didn't. I felt an apology brew on my lips, and it just died as he looked at me again with all those questions. I tried my hardest to keep my voice steady when I spoke. I don't have a very girlish voice. It's deep, suited to my body, but I can purr just like any good girl if I have to. So I let that purr sneak in there, and kept my voice as steady as I could while I gave him a firm order.  
  
“Stand up,” I said.  
  
He did. I liked the pride that he held in himself when he stood again, because it melted as I stepped close to him again. I liked – no, I loved – watching it melt. His shoulders sagged, and he took one halting step away from me. I noticed, more clearly this time, that he was shorter than me by a good deal. At least a handspan, but that's not exactly hard. I'm an inch over six feet, and I'm used to being able to see over most normal people.  
  
He backed away, and I just moved. When my actions became quicker, so did his. I thought we might end up making all the walking for naught, but he backed himself into a tunnel we had just left and I somehow maneuvered myself so that I ran him right into a wall. He was trapped, and we both knew it. So I reached for him again. I touched him, just a brush of my callused fingers on his cheek, and I watched him shudder again and turn his head away from me. For some reason, that pissed me off.  
  
“Look at me,” I demanded.  
  
He refused, shutting those eyes tightly and hugging his arms to his chest. I tried a few more times, and the last time my voice almost cracked into a plea, but I managed to keep it back. That small moment of weakness on my account just severed my control completely. One moment he had his back against the wall, the next it was on the floor and I was grinding myself on his flaccid cock, with four layers of clothes between each of us. I had one hand clapped over his mouth as if I were still living on the streets and was raping a girl in a back alley.  
  
I'll take this moment to state, just in case anyone ever reads this thing, that I have never raped a person in my life. I know the boundaries. I know that no means no, and I'm more than capable of telling when someone likes it rough and when I've gone over that line. That line is usually awful clear for me, and I've been a damned good girl when it comes to that, but this time...  
  
… I just didn't give a shit. I sat there with my hand over his mouth, and I wanted him to scream. I wanted him to beg, for all the good it would do him. We'd passed a lot of bunnies on our day of roaming, and a few of them were set to be dinner once we had made camp, but I didn't see a single bunny carrying a musket or anything close to a weapon. He was mine, and he knew it. He knew that his struggles would only make it sweeter, and worst of all... he knew that running would accomplish nothing at all.  
  
Oh, I had him. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a shard of rock that I had chipped off the stone when I had dug through the tunnel we were in earlier in the day. With my free hand, I reached over and grabbed it, then slowly brought it back into his field of vision, and I twirled it in my fingers. It was a sharp piece, and we both saw the torchlight that glinted off the edge. With him still watching, I lowered it to his chest and just... pushed. Just a little press, not enough to cut him by any means of the word, but just so he knew what I was using wasn't harmless.  
  
Once I felt I had him sufficiently frightened – and no, I really don't understand why I wanted him to be scared, only that it made me aroused enough to fuck a whole herd of horses -, I pulled my hand away and replaced it with my mouth. I almost wish I could say that I was gentle, but I'd be lying. There was nothing gentle about the way I kissed him, and there didn't have to be. The little shit picked that moment to fight back, nearly biting off my tongue.   
  
I grabbed him by his fragile little jaw, and dug my fingers in until he yelped, and just went back to what I was doing. I can't say he stopped fighting me... there certainly wasn't any cooperation involved when it came to his side. There's always something sensual about tongues sliding against each other, trying to outdo the other one. Either this guy had never been kissed, or he was just being a fucking asshole. I tried not to think of it as I chased his tongue, which kept slapping up against the inside of our cheeks like some sort of... well, I can't think of a good comparison. Sorry.  
  
Eventually, I gave up. I'll never admit it to him because I don't want him thinking he got the better of me, which he didn't, but I was antsy anyway. I wanted to feel this girly-boy inside me. I may have been tired, but I'm always good for one more roll in the hay, and this fucker was going to give me that much at the very least. I think it's right about there that I realized that I wasn't really feeling anything down there. Not on my end, no... but on his.  
  
I made myself wait, though. Maybe he really wasn't in to this. Maybe I was about to do somethin' real bad, you know? But he had never told me no. I hadn't heard him say stop, and I still wasn't sure if he wanted me to. I guess he knew that I wasn't going to kill him yet, and he wasn't going to give me any reason to do so. Deliberately, at least. So instead of yanking his pants down and riding him until the sun came back up, I started using that rock in the way I had threatened.  
  
The rip of his shirt made us both pause. Me, because I wanted to see his reaction. Him... well, I don't really know. He just glared at me, as if his look might make me burst into flame, but it had all the power of an angry towel. The more I tore his shirt, the less of a frown there was on those lips, and I couldn't help myself. I kissed him again, so hard that I knew our lips would both be bruised, with my hand curled in that thick hair of his while I hooked the rock under his shirt and dragged down, shredding it.  
  
I heard him whimper as the stone accidentally caught flesh, and it was me that finally bent and moaned. That gods-damned noise sent a thrill down my spine, and I admit I nicked him again just to see if I could make him gasp. He did, and I had to pause a moment to collect my thoughts before I did some serious damage to my new toy.  
  
Yes, by that point, that's all I really considered him to be. He was my toy, my source of amusement, and I was going to use him any chance I got. I hungered for the taste of his skin, the scent of his fear so very rich in my nose... I didn't love him, but I wanted him with the same degree of passion that I had reserved for the lovers I had taken before, whether I was their bitch, or they were mine. I told myself that I could wait just a little longer, and I set the rock aside so that I could just touch him.  
  
I don't have long nails, I admit. Like I said, I'm not one of those girls. Don't be fooled by my lack of feminine mystique, though. I've left many a mark on a lover, and I've got plenty of marks from both men and women on me. I wish, though, that I did have good nails that I could have dragged along his skin. I had to settle for the rough, callused pads of my fingers. It had the same effect, in the end. I watched him shiver and shudder, writhing by the time I got to his belt line.  
  
That's when he finally broke down. Right as my fingers started inching under the waist of his pants, he started making a fuss. It really was too late. I crawled my fingers in there and slipped under his underclothes, and went to grab his cock... and it wasn't there. My moment of surprise lasted way longer than a moment should, and I knew I must have looked really stupid with my hand down the front of his pants, fishing around like he'd gotten a weasel down his knickers and I was trying to help him get it, but gods help me... I was stymied!  
  
For just a moment, I thought that maybe his looks really were because he was a she. I was still searching for his cock when I heard him start begging for me to stop. Gods, the boy had started to cry with his hands curled into fists near his mouth. Those dark curls of his fell over his eyes, and I actually debated stopping for just a moment, but I was just so damned curious. I had backed him into a corner, pushed him down, straddled him, kissed him, scratched him and he'd barely made a sound, but now he was pleading? No... I couldn't stop.  
  
The worst thing a woman can do to a man when he's naked is laugh at him. I learned that the first time I slept with a man. I hadn't even been laughing at him (he had been admirably equipped), I had merely been laughing because I was nervous, and he deflated so fast that you'd have thought he was a balloon I had popped. So I knew that the moment I grinned, he knew what was coming. The grin was one of those shit-eating ones, when you've found something out that someone wanted hidden far away.  
  
I let him devour that grin while I inched further into his leggings just to confirm my theory, and I watched his eyes go wide as I finally touched just the tip of his dick. That grin dissolved beneath a bout of laughter that was part joy and part menace. The boy was a boy, but he may as well have been a damned girl. His dick was, and this was likely being generous as I started to lose touch with him starting to squirm all over the place, no bigger than my pointer finger. Not a centimeter wider, not a damned speck longer.  
  
Smallest dick I'd ever touched by a good number of inches, and I loved hearing him sob as I pressed a hand against his pelvis and just plain tore his pants off, even with his boots still on. He cried out in pain and discomfort, and I just ravaged him as I wished until he was completely naked and cowering against a wall, and I was still laughing. It was a strange laughter, one that I'd never really done before. The laughter of one exulting in the pain and shame of another. Even in the dim light of sunset, I could see his shame.  
  
“Fuckin' girl. Gods damn it, I was hoping I could get me a little fun off your whiny, pathetic ass... and you end up with a cock that makes mice feel adequate.” I mocked him while I shredded his clothes into tiny bits, rendering them completely useless. I had decided what I was going to be using my new toy for, and he wouldn't need any of his old things. “I've seen clits bigger than what you've got there. Only good for fucking rabbits.”  
  
“S-stop that...”  
  
His voice made me shiver, a pure mewl of girlish denial that just tipped the scales over. I was frustrated; I had been ready for a good fuck, even if I had to ride him and have him lay there like a doll. I'd have given him a show, too. I'm a god damned goddess when I feel the need to be. But that... good gods, that wasn't going to get me off or turn me on. Just the thought of it made me laugh. So I did.  
  
“Cosette, dear... I'm not going to stop laughing. The more you hide it, the more I'll laugh. You've got the dick of an eight year old, and that's an insult to them.” I walked up behind him, my fingers sliding up his spine and tickling the nape of his neck.  
  
“Cody. My name is Cody.” He was adamant, but I was even more so.  
  
My body pressed against his, an arm bracing against the wall while I pushed his chest into the dirt and stone, my lips close to his ear. “You aren't a man, Cosette. You're just a woman with a big clit. Do you know what a real man is? A real man is nine inches of hot iron, thick and pulsing. A real man takes my breath away with a thrust, keeps me on my toes and my mind completely scrambled. A real man can make me come with just pushing. You'd have to rub. It's okay, Cosette. I've bedded women, too. If you're lucky, you might get a little bit of fun with me, but not as a man. Because you aren't a man. The only ones who get to fuck me are men. You just get to rub, if you're lucky.”  
  
I felt him squirm, and I was a little surprised when I looked down his shoulder and saw that he was as hard as ever, and was even playing with himself. I couldn't believe my luck, and I was waiting for it to end. My frustration channeled into something else while I taunted him, and I watched his breathing become rapid and then hitch even as he shook his head. Poor little thing, trying so hard.  
  
“Go ahead, Cosette. Rub yourself like the lady you are. I can't believe you're doing this, right here. A real man would be fighting me, pinning me down. You're taking it like a woman, bending over and taking it like a real woman. That's good, Cosette. All that time I was grinding on you, damn. I should have gone another way. Little pindick like that won't do anything for anyone... but I have a gift for you.”  
  
I grabbed his wrists, tearing his hands away from his pathetic dick, and dragged him after me. We emerged from the tunnel, and both of us took a moment to look around. I admit, I got worried. We were warned that dark was dangerous, especially for those of us who had just settled. I had heard enough of it from Cosette during the day to know I was really skating the line. I let him go and fetched my pack, which I had brought with me. Just a few things I couldn't leave behind, you know?  
  
What I pulled out and tossed to him were more than well known to me. The flimsy cotton was my first prize, the first thing I had ever taken from someone. A pair of pale blue panties with a yellow satin bow on the front. I remembered the girl they had belonged to dearly. Her name was Jade, and she was a petite little thing with amber eyes and long blonde hair. She taught me how to properly love a woman, and I still loved her for it.  
  
Cosette caught the panties and then nearly dropped them. I guess my warning hiss was enough, though he stood there stupidly with them in his fingers, looking at me with an expression of dumbstruck confusion. I didn't relent, and I was pleased to find that the panties were at least a size too tight. When he stood straight again, I slipped close enough to grab his dick through the fabric, gently rolling it in my fingers. For all my teasing, it truly was just like teasing a woman.  
  
“You're a little sissy bitch, aren't you?” He nodded, biting his bottom lip as his hips bucked against my hand in short spasms. “You know you didn't have a chance in hell. I don't like liars. I like honest people. Are you honest?” When he nodded again, I grinned. “Then say it.”  
  
“I...” He clammed up, his cheeks flushing pinker. I threatened to stop, and the words came out of his mouth in a rush. “I'm a sissy! I'm a little girly bitch who isn't man enough to lick your toes!”  
  
I blinked, just a little taken aback. I admit that I hadn't expected to get anything out of him, but he had said it all so quickly that I had a feeling he'd said it before. His eyes caught my grin, and he looked down. I knew I was right. I said nothing more, giving him his reward. Only a few more seconds after his exclamation, he came, staining the front of my gift. I sighed sadly, but just shrugged.  
  
“Tsk, Cosette. Dirtied your gift already? That's a shame. It's all you have to sleep in. Get back in the tunnel. Good girl.” I watched him walk silently back into what was quickly becoming torchlit darkness, and hefted my bags over my shoulder before following him in. He was already working in the dirt, building up a wall, and I found that I rather liked the way his body looked when he was on his knees.  
  
I didn't feel bad at all about it. I wondered what he'd look like with his hair long, done up in puppy-tails. When he spotted me moving near to him, he moved to stand and then stopped as I shook my head. “Stay there. On your knees, just like that. Good girl.” I stood next to him, rubbing the top of his head like I had done to my dog when I lived in the city. “Since we have to move quickly during the day, you may stand. At all other times, you're to be on your knees. Do you understand, Cosette?”  
  
He nodded, and I waited for a moment. I half expected to see a twinge of remorse, but there was nothing more than the weary look of complete obedience. He was tired, and truth be told, so was I. “You can sleep next to me if you like, little girl.” I sat down after building up another dirt wall to keep us safe, and patted the rock beside me. He came to me like a pup, crawling quickly over shattered stone and dirt to curl up with his head in my lap.  
  
I've allowed it, so far. He sleeps, while I write and muse about what fun I'll have with him. Tomorrow, we'll continue looking for our perfect place. I have plans brewing already for my little bitch. For my little Cosette; my little thing of no importance.


	2. Day Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chezza and Cosette continue their travels, only to find themselves in a sticky situation.

According to Cosette, I have been unconscious for several days. In that interim, Cosette has begun to carve out what will be the foundation of the house I must build. In truth, I am grateful for her kindness. If memory serves, Cosette could have left me for dead and felt nothing about it. I have not been cruel, but I know that I would have left me, had I been in her shoes. I no longer see Cosette as a male; in my mind, he has always been a she. In her mannerisms, he has accepted his new life as a woman with grace I have not seen before in even women.  
  
I gave her my old clothes, and it seems that she has found the time to modify them so that they do not hang poorly on her body. It would be a shame for her to end up burned because of a draping sleeve, or for her to trip over a too-long skirt. Whatever other cloth I managed to keep has been torn for bandages and blankets; there's been no time to make a bed. Something that I will be sure to remedy when I have the strength, but even that much is beyond me. Instead, I lay weak as a kitten on what is little more than a raised slab of mud covered in leaves. Mildly itchy, but I understand the intent behind it. There are no windows in this room, but I suspect that Cosette dug for her life. Our lives. It's easier to make a hole and sleep in it than to find the materials to bring together a true shelter. Still, she has done well.  
  
Sleep comes in intervals, and is wrought with emotions that I am loathe to admit. Fear is one. I can feel it, hear it in Cosette's screams and my own, and even taste it. I feel pain, both in sleep and out of it, but I see it in the way Cosette looks at me. I wish the dream wasn't a memory, but I know it is. That twisted day is firmly burned into my mind, a terrifying mix of pain, fear, and pleasure. The torches on the walls remind me of it. Perhaps it would be best to speak of it to Cosette. To understand it, and work through what pain and confusion we both share. Maybe, once she stops looking at me like I am the wolf before her, the deer.  
  
Until then, I must do only what I have the strength to do now, and write of what I remember. Cosette has brought me more ink, but I do not think this will take long.   
  
After Cosette's submission, travel became faster. I no longer had to deal with her incessant whining and nitpicking. Indeed, Cosette became quite apt at reading my desires without me even having to speak them. Smaller than I, she can get to places that I cannot, which proved to be needed in some cases. On the afternoon of the second day of our travels, we left forest for desert. It was at this time that I gave Cosette the clothes she now wears. I could not afford to have her become burned, and shade proved to be difficult to find.  
  
With care taken, we did manage to make it through the area to more forest in only a day. Both of us were delighted to find that this forest was home to a rather large lake. We spent a few hours there reviving ourselves, and I admit... sharing pleasure. Physical for Cosette, mental for myself. I have found that I enjoy finding what sounds I can draw from the girl, and she seems to enjoy giving me all that I want. Despite this, I have found myself unable to actually take physical pleasure from her to gratify my own urges. I do not think I want that just yet, or perhaps there is something more. I digress.  
  
After our bath and once our clothes were dry, we dressed again and started to make our way through the forest. The terrain was far more difficult than where we had begun our journey, and I was forced several times to boost Cosette up walls and ledges before getting myself over. It was in one of these areas, after we had just descended a rather painful slope, that our simple travel turned into a nightmare.  
  
I had Cosette on my shoulders, aiding her up to the next ledge when we were both struck with something that I can only describe as viscous. Sticky and cloying, whatever hit us threw me off balance and knocked her clean off of my shoulders. We landed painfully, the breath knocked out of me while Cosette whimpered in pain. I opened my eyes, not surprised to find tears there, and saw her rub her head and her hand come away tinged with red. As I rose to assist her to her feet, I was hit again. This time, I was ready for it.  
  
Or I suppose that I should say them. We had run into a few of the indigenous slimes while we had walked, but never in such vast amounts. It was as if they had all been hiding until this moment, where we could not easily escape. I saw, as I fell again, Cosette stand and attempt to run, only to trip on her own skirt and fall onto her front, the sharp tear of cloth sounding.   
  
Well, I'd never said the skirt was tough. Cosette's travels had already split the fabric more than a few times, and now I was witness to her rump up in the air, the cloth of the panties I had gifted her caught tight between her buttocks. Around us, more of the gelatin-like oozes had sprouted from only the gods knew where, and were swiftly bouncing down towards us. I was struck more times, my back bent by the weight of those that had pounced me.  
  
I was unable to move. My hands scrabbled for purchase, my legs bent and tried to drive knees into the ground, but no matter how I struggled, I couldn't get close enough. My hands reached and grasped, grabbing cloth and pulling. For a moment, I was struck with how comical the scene was – there I was with Cosette's panties in my outstretched fist, both of us being piled on by green and blue jellies. The comedy ended as one landed on my head, smashing my face into the ground. When I looked back up again, it was to a cry of fear and... confusion.  
  
I can't begin to consider what these things were doing. To this moment, I don't really want to know. I could only watch in horrified bewilderment as my precious Cosette was... I can only say  _mounted_. I had somehow missed the rather large slime that had gathered with the others. Among the mass of blue and green, the purple seemed to stand out more. "Move," I remember croaking, and I remember vividly the look of absolute terror that Cosette shot back at me before looking to her hands. I saw her wriggle and try to escape the oozes that covered her slender fingers, but it was no use.  
  
Others had moved to her legs, and I tried to wriggle my fingers beneath them only to find that they were, for all intents and purposes, fully suctioned to the floor. Cosette, no matter how she thrashed, was unable to get away. I could only watch in detached horror as the purple glob of jelly wriggled and then leaped onto her lower back, half of it hanging off her backside. Not for long, as I watched it wiggle and undulate and then, with a twisted 'shlurp' it attached around her front.   
  
It looked like she was wearing writhing purple panties, but that didn't shock me nearly so much as the sound that Cosette made. A high pitched, keening cry that dissolved into a helpless moan. Her hips shimmied, and I was transfixed by the motion and admittedly disgusted with myself, but I could not look away. Cosette pleaded with me, begged me to be rid of what was attached to her, but she knew as well as I that I could not move.  
  
So I was made to watch, while Cosette's head began to hang and she sobbed, as the ooze... gods, I don't even know what it was trying to do. I could see Cosette's pindick and balls, and when I focused, I could see that they were moving. It was little wonder that Cosette was in a near constant state of moaning, with how I could see the flesh flatten as if fingers or palms were rolling across the skin. It was only a few minutes of this that had gone by before I saw her balls tighten and then the purple color of the ooze was... diluted? Thickened? I've no idea what to say, other than I watched Cosette cum, and then saw the ropes of seed hover as if locked within the ooze.  
  
Cosette was begging me for forgiveness, but before I could say anything – I wasn't even sure what I could say to someone who had just been wanked off by a pile of dessert – her pleas turned into screams of fear and pain. At first, I had no idea what was making her make such horrible noises. Her genitals were still surrounded by the ooze, but they weren't being manipulated, and then she released a shuddering moan, and I looked elsewhere, and promptly damned myself.  
  
The ooze had wrestled her asscheeks open, displaying the only part of the girl that I had yet to even think of touching. It wasn't as if I could get any pleasure from there, but the noises that Cosette made between shameful sobs made me think twice. I saw the flesh dimple as if a finger was poking at it, and even while Cosette clenched down - and oh yes, I saw that plain as day – that invasive little finger of purple easily slipped within her ass. Cosette's noises changed between whimpers, moans, sounds of discomfort, and I could match the noise to what was going on.  
  
"It's, it's inside me. Gods, it's inside me!" Cosette's voice had risen several octaves, and yet I couldn't respond. I was transfixed by the sight of her ass opening slowly, the ring of skin moving in that telling sign of gentle thrusting. Cosette's hips wiggled again, and for just the flash of a moment through the ooze's translucent body, I saw my precious pet's ass gaped open as if she had taken an enormous cock.  
  
My wonder, however disgusting it may have been to be in absolute wonder at such a sight, was interrupted as I felt pressure on my legs. Not the pressure of being held down, but of being grasped. It changed quickly, and felt as though a large snake had coiled up my leg. It moved, however, more like a caterpillar, worming it's way up and around my leg and thigh, beneath my pants. I felt a breeze on my feet, and looked down my body to find that my shoes had been sucked right off my feet, suspended in the bodies of oozes.  
  
I moved, realizing that I was free of all the pressure that had been there before. I knew that the only reason this was so was because, for the moment, Cosette seemed to be more interesting. Indeed, her moans had grown muffled as oozes began to pile over her, extending long tentacles of their bodies and cramming these into Cosette's mouth and ass. She was covered in them, ribbons of color criss-crossing her form as they... violated her.  
  
I shouldn't have looked. I had made it to my back when I garnered attention myself. My eyes caught movement and I looked up only to be met with a faceful of my own purple companion. I saw stars as my head hit stone, and I was stunned long enough for it to... straddle my neck and lower face. My hands struggled as that snake-like feeling continued up my leg, and I was able to glance down and see that my pants had bulged.  
  
... and then I realized, really realized, why Cosette had moaned so whorishly, because the sound was torn from my throat and then stifled as my purple assailant crammed itself into my mouth. There truly is no other word for what it did, no matter how hard I try to search for one. I moved my tongue to block it, and it merely divided around my tongue and slipped down my throat. I felt my breathing become blocked and then freed again, and I was glad for it because I needed air to moan again as the ooze around my legs found it's way to my folds and slid tendrils out from itself to feel around my skin. No matter how I thrashed and moved, I could not dislodge the creature. It merely continued to mold to my body, leaving me helpless.  
  
I began to understand why Cosette had not fought back. It seemed impossible, and truth be told, I was unwilling to as I felt the slime begin to part my labia and slip deeper. It started as something small, something that I might have mocked, but it quickly began to fill and spread to an almost blissful point. I found myself trying to spread my legs further, my knees nearly flush with the ground as the ooze in my pants thickened and pulsed inside of me.  
  
I won't try to make it look better. I can't. In the depths of my mind, I absolutely loved the violation. I closed my eyes as the oozes worked in tandem, nearly perfectly mimicing the fleshy texture and thick hardness of the cocks that I so desperately desired and sorely missed after dealing only with Cosette. Everything about me responded to them, and I barely choked out sounds as I felt the ooze impaling my cunt change form slowly, forming ripples and nubs that stroked parts of me that no ordinary cock could without massive effort.  
  
To say that I came would be an understatement. I don't know how long it was, I don't exactly know when I became so willing to nurse the slime cock in my mouth. I barely remember it moving away from me, the deep sense of loss that flooded me as my mouth was emptied, and then the rush of utter joy as more slimes moved in. They didn't need to hold me down like they had done to Cosette. When one nudged me, I opened my mouth and let it in. My squirming against the stone shredded my pants, and they took their chances to find what I was more than willing to give them.  
  
My hips raised as some slithered beneath me and expanded, and I felt them prod and poke at my ass until they found the hole they sought and pushed themselves inside. I shuddered and gasped, practically writhed, and more of them wiggled beneath me. I was on a bed of gel, pillowed even while I moved and moaned, and I could feel them wrapping around my body and sliding up my shirt. I was filled, every slime working as if it knew just how to hit all of my buttons, and I came over and over again while listening to Cosette's screams of pain, rage, and pleasure.  
  
I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how much time had passed. I lost count of how many times I came, I stopped caring that every time a new slime cock plunged into me, it was just a little bit larger than the last one. I could feel myself gaping as one left and another took it's place in my ass and cunt, but I couldn't bring myself to fight back any more. Every orgasm drained me, and I began to see black at the corner of my vision as I realized, too late, that these things were beginning to restrict my breath more and more, making me gasp and strain for just the little bit that I could.  
  
I should have died. To be honest, I couldn't think of a better way to go out, but that one would certainly top any list that I had. My head started to pound, and I realized that ther ewas other pain, a voice calling for me through the fog that had enshrouded my mind. I barely had a chance to grasp that sound before the pain flooded me and I was brought back to sharp reality.  
  
Cosette had freed herself in one way or another, and was now working on freeing me as best as she could. The stick she used to stab at the slimes that covered me was sharp, and my moans became screams of pain as I felt the tip of that weapon lance into my body at multiple points, and no matter how hard I begged for her to stop, she just kept going. I can remember, somehow, her voice sobbing out apologies to me, but I lost it at that point.  
  
The gels began to dissolve around me, and I was coated in a thick layer of sticky fluid as they fell, one by one, to her. When I finally felt stone on my back, that is when I forget anything else. I woke up later to pain, and Cosette crying, begging me not to kill her.  
  
How can I kill someone who saved my life?


End file.
